Father and Sons
by ephiny63
Summary: COMPLETE A Wee!Chester story, Sammy is 6 and Dean is 10. The latest home for the Winchesters, a rundown house with unusual furniture and beds,is more than what it seems,have they moved into a hunt in their own home?
1. Bed People and a Hating House

Father and Sons

A Wee!Chester story

Disclaimer: Hmm okay I could say that things could change after this coming weekend but ... Nope still not mine to keep, just to play with and then send home again.

Author's Note: I know I still have a few stories to get finished but I was having withdrawals from writing Wee!Chester tales Hehehe, I know I'm hopeless!!

Dean is 10 years old, Sammy is 6 years old.

S—D

Chapter One: Bed People and a Hating House.

Six year old Sam Winchester looked up at his big brother with a sceptical look on his face, 'this is it?'

'Yeah Squirt this is it.' Dean sighed and gave his brother's thin shoulder a squeeze as they stood and stared at their newest home, 'guess we had better go in.'

'Dean it smells.' Sam wrinkled his nose and took a step back.

'Yeah well dad's already gone so we just have to suck it up.' Dean mumbled as he grabbed Sam's hand and headed towards the rundown timber house. 'He wants us to unpack before he gets back.'

'Okay.' Together the two boys carried their heavy duffle bags up the two steps to the front door, 'watch out Deanie that boards broken.' Sam pointed out just before Dean put his foot on the jagged piece of wood.

'Thanks Squirt that would've hurt.' Dean grinned as he dumped his bag and pulled the front door key out of his pocket, 'let's see what it's like on the inside.'

'Do we hafta?'

'Yep we do.' Taking a deep breath Dean slid the key into the lock and let the door swing open the musty smell hitting the two brothers immediately. Sneezing Dean went in first and waited for a second until his eyes became accustomed to the dullness inside.

'I'm just gonna check it out Sammy you stay put.' Dean said without turning around, he knew that Sam wouldn't move until Dean gave him the all-clear. Sniffling after another round of sneezing Dean stepped into the small living room and pulled the curtains open catching a face full of dust. Coughing now as well as sneezing Dean went on into the kitchen, he opened the small window above the sink and breathed in the fresher air from outside before turning to inspect the rest of their new home.

'Come on in Sammy.' He called after quickly looking in the cupboards, fridge and stove for any uninvited furry guests.

'Wow Dean did dad even check it out?' Sam asked dropping their bags in the middle of the living room.

'Dunno let's check out upstairs.' Dean grinned the dust on his face giving him a mask of mischievousness, 'might find some treasure.'

'Yeah right, dusty.' Sam chuckled, 'race ya?'

'Yeah right.' Dean took off and soon the two boys were playing tag upstairs and through the two bedrooms and bathroom, they came to a screeching halt in the room that they were going to call theirs for a while. A large double bed, the frame carved in a heavy red wood with intricate designs across the bedhead, and the foot-board sat under the window, 'wow.' Dean exclaimed as he ran his hand over the heavy piece of furniture, 'this is cool.'

The only other furniture in the room was a standing robe, a small chest of drawers with an oval mirror set into a wooden frame similar that of the bed next to it a small student's desk.

'What about dad's room?' Sam asked rushing out of their room before Dean could react, a short sharp cry followed his exit. Dean ran towards the sound of distress and found Sam sitting on the dirty floor with his left leg pulled up against his chest.

'What happened Sammy?'

'I tripped on that.' Sam pointed to a buckled floorboard just behind him, 'fell on my knee.'

'Let me see Sammy.' Dean crouched down in front of his brother and gently inspected the bruising joint, 'looks like you're gonna have a decent bruise there Sammy, can ya stand?'

'Yeah just hurts a bit.' Sam sniffed and let Dean help him up, limping lightly he followed his brother into the other bedroom. An dark look of anger flashed through Dean's eyes but he swallowed it down before he looked back at his little brother, they shouldn't have to live in places where Sam could get hurt.

'Gee dad really got the pick of the beds.' Sam's crack had Dean snap his head up and look around the bedroom; his gaze comes to rest on the big bed, once it would have been a beautiful rosewood four poster bed with a canopy but now it was just a shell of its former glory. The canopy rotted and broken away, the bed frame still intact though now covered with graffiti and marks scratched into the wood.

'Hey Sammy why don't you go and rest that knee while I start to unpack, we haven't got any ice ... there's an ice pack in the first aid box but we'll hafta wait for dad.'

'It's okay Dean, I'll be fine.' Sam said hiding the wince as he limped back downstairs.

'Nope not gonna get chewed out by dad just coz you're too stubborn Squirt so go sit.'

An hour later Dean had nearly finished unpacking their meagre belongings when he heard the familiar and distinct rumble of the impala, but before he could get downstairs to his little brother, his father's deep voice filled the silence.

'Sam! What are you doing sitting when you're brother is doing all of the work?' The anger and disapproval evident in the man's tone.

'Save it dad, Sam hurt his knee.' The ten year old yelled as he came down the stairs, 'he tripped on the shitty floorboards upstairs.'

'What?'

'We were going through the rooms upstairs and Sam caught his foot on a buckled floor board it wasn't his fault.'

'Yeah well be more careful next time Sam and enough of your potty mouth Dean.' John Winchester grumbled as he crouched down to check on his youngest's injury, 'bad bruise there Sammy.'

'It's okay.' Sam shrugged his thin shoulders and bit back a small cry when his dad hit a tender spot.

'I'll go and get the ice packs, Dean give me a hand with the groceries kiddo.' John was already out the door before he finished speaking, 'now Dean.'

'Geeze alright dad keep ya hair on.' Dean grinned and winked at Sammy before hurrying after his father, 'dad.'

'Yes Son?'

'This place needs lots of work,' Dean said, running his fingers through his short hair, 'the porch has lots of broken boards and the floor upstairs, Sammy could've gotten hurt bad.'

'Yeah I know, I'm not meeting up with Caleb until the weekend so we can get some work done before then.'

'What about school?' Dean asked grinning slyly.

'Nice try kiddo, but I'll be fixing the floors while you and Sammy are at school.'

'Ah worth a shot?' Dean hauled the large first aid box inside while his father juggled the bags of groceries, a large sneeze exploding from Dean as he stepped back into the building. 'I'm allergic to the house dad.'

'Keep going Dean.' John shook his head at his ten year old's antics, 'I'll get you some stuff at the pharmacy later, but you're still going to school.'

'Hey didn't say anything.' Dean protested in mock horror winking at his brother, 'geeze slave driver, or what?'

'Or what.' John said as he left the groceries on the rickety table, 'want to start putting that lot away while I look at Sammy's knee?'

'Yeah, yeah geeze ...' Dean mumbled under his breath grinned at Sam and went to unpack the food though he kept an eye on his brother and father at the same time.

John carefully lifted his youngest son's leg and balanced it on his lap while he gave the injury a closer look. Sammy's knee, 'so Sammy no running for a while okay baby?'

'Gee dad I'm no baby.' Sam whinged folding his arms across his chest and pulled a full on pout.

'Ah but you're my baby Sammy.' John laughed, 'keep the ice pack on there for a while it's already bruising you must've come down hard on it.'

'Yes Sir.' Sam bobbed his head, 'dad?'

'Yes son:?'

'Can I still go to school tomorrow?' Sam stared up at his father with shimmering green eyes, John's breath caught in his throat, Dean might look more like their mother, but Sam's got her eyes.

'Yeah as long as you don't run or do anything silly.'

'Promise, yay Dean I can still go to school tomorrow.' Sammy called out excitedly.

'You sure that he's my brother dad? I mean you didn't find him under a cabbage patch did ya?'

S—D

_The flames flared over the walls and crept towards the ceilings, the smoke was choking, the sounds of sneezing and coughing echoed in the silence but he couldn't see anyone else. He wanted to cry, he was so scared he curled into a tiny ball and tried to hide but the stiff bony fingers poked him, the laughter made his ears hurt. He wanted to run but couldn't move, he wanted to disappear but the flames were so hot and getting closer to him._

_'Time to play.' He heard the voice behind him, whimpering he tried to move but the bony fingers held him tight, 'I wanna go home.' He cried pitifully, 'I want my daddy! I want my Deanie!'_

'Sammy come on baby wake up for daddy.' John tried once again to wake his distraught youngest son; he had found Sam writhing in the big bed, sobbing and screaming for him and Dean but nothing he could do would wake Sammy up. After he was unable to wake his brother, Dean ran into his father's room and shook him awake before rushing back to his brother, almost tripping on that floorboard on his way.

'What's wrong with him dad?' Dean asked his dark green eyes appearing black with emotion.

'He's having a bad nightmare that's all.' John tried to give his eldest some comfort while still trying to wake Sammy up. Suddenly, the small boy sat upright, his eyes wide open and fixed, an ear-splitting scream coming from deep within the painfully thin chest. 'Sammy?' John and Dean cried out simultaneously.

'Daddy?' Sammy sobbed and wrapped his arms around his father's neck not wanting to let go, 'daddy they were gonna take me.'

'Who son?' John tried to pry his son's arms away from his throat but Sam just tightened his grip, his little body trembling violently pressed harder against John's chest.

'The bed people.' Sammy sniffled, 'they took Deanie away and then, then they ... fire burned and smoke and ... and ... I couldn't find ya ... then the bony fingers came from the bed people.'

'Bed people?' John glanced over at Dean who just shook his head in confusion. 'What bed people Sammy?'

'They ... they ... want me.' Sammy sobbed and then he abruptly collapsed in his father's arms, his breath coming in short, sharp breathes.

'Dad what's going on?' Dean blinked and ran his fingers through his brother's long sweat-filled hair. 'What's wrong with Sammy?'

'Not sure Dean,' John answered distractedly when he discovered the finger-shaped bruises on the back of Sammy's neck and shoulders, 'damn.'

'Dad?' Dean blinked back the tears and tried to stay strong like a good soldier.

'These bruises they weren't here before?' John asked Dean while he tenderly pulled Sammy's pyjama top off him giving him a clearer view of the marks.

'No, no Sir they're new.' Dean's eyes grew impossibly wider staring at the bruises, 'dad Sammy called em the bed people ... could they have?'

'They look like finger shapes but thinner, more like bones or sticks.' John mused, 'Dean did Sammy bleed on anything when he fell over?'

'No Sir, just bruised his knee.' Dean sniffled and started to sneeze and cough again.

S—D

John ran his hands through his thick black hair and stared down at his youngest son's unconscious form, the bruises now covering Sammy's shoulders and upper back down to just below his shoulder blades.

'Dad when's uncle Bobby coming?' Dean asked, his voice hoarse and sounding thick with mucous.

'He'll be here tomorrow Dean.' John looked up at his pale faced eldest, 'why don't you get some sleep?'

'Nah my head hurts too much,' Dean sniffled, 'what about your job with Caleb?'

'Uncle Bobby said that he'll get someone else to help Caleb so I don't have to worry about the job.'

'Ah okay.'

'Dean?'

'Yeah Dad?'

'I'm sorry ...'

'Sorry for what?' Dean frowned confused, maybe he was sicker than he thought, 'what's wrong dad?'

'Nothing, but I'm sorry that I didn't get a better place for you guys to live in.'

'Ah it's okay dad, just coz I'm allergic to it and it wants Sammy, doesn't mean that it's a bad house.' Dean said with an innocent look on his face, his grin widening when he saw the small smile form on his father's face. 'We'll be okay Dad.'

'If, if I could ... things would be different for you two, you know that don't you?'

'Dad ... hey it's okay ... Sam and me will be fine.' Dean reassured John before he started to sneeze again. 'House hates me, I hate this dumb house.' He mumbled under his breath.

'Daddy?' Sammy opened his eyes, winced and shut them again, 'hurts.'

'What does baby?' John leant closer to Sammy and brushed a finger tenderly down his son's face.

'Eyes, light hurts ... daddy my head hurts.' Sammy whimpered rolling onto his side he curled up and tried to hide his face. John looked up to ask Dean to shut the blinds when he saw his son had already done it without hesitation.

'That better Sammy?' John asked watching Sammy slit his eyes open and then open them wide.

'Thanks Deanie, daddy.' Sam tried for a smile but it turned into more of a grimace.

'How you feelin' Sammy?' Dean asked climbing back onto the bed next to his brother.

'Hurts ... you sound sick Deanie.'

'Ahh allergies ... house hates me!' Dean grinned.

'Daddy my head hurts,' Sammy blinked back tears, 'an', and my neck.'

'You've got lots of bruises on your neck baby.'

'Daddy ... feel ...icky...' Sammy's face screwed up and he became even paler, 'gonna ...' John picked his baby boy up and rushed into the bathroom, just making it to the toilet when Sam started to retch, losing the small amount of food he had left in his stomach. 'Don' ... like ... sickies.' He moaned as another wave of nausea hit him. 'Daddy!'

S—D

John watched both boys as they slept soundly curled up together on the couch, preferring to keep Sam where he could see him, and with Dean's allergic reactions so extreme it was a lot easier to get both of them asleep on the couch.

He cradled his lukewarm coffee and tried to piece together what had happened since their arrival in the ramshackle house.

'Johnny Winchester you in there?' a familiar grumbling voice came from the open front door.

'Get in here Singer and keep the noise down.' John grinned and got up to greet his friend, 'thanks for coming.'

'Where's my boys?' Bobby Singer asked expecting a hyperactive Sammy and Dean to bowl him over.

'Asleep on the couch.' John said as he led Bobby over to where the boys slept, 'something attacked Sammy in his sleep.'

'Sure it wasn't just one of his nightmares?'

'Nightmares cause this?' John showed Bobby the black and purple bruises covering Sam's neck, shoulders and back, 'he's been vomiting and got a slight temperature as well.'

'Dang me.' Bobby murmured his weathered and calloused hands ghosted over the marks, 'they look like bony fingers.'

'Sammy said that the bed people want him.'

'Bed people?' Bobby sat back and looked up at John a frown forming, 'did he describe them?'

'Nope but ... have a look at this.' John led Bobby upstairs to the boys' room, 'check the bed out.'

Bobby whistled softly as he traced the designs with a fingertip, 'you might've moved in on a hunt without knowing Johnny boy.'

'Tell me about it.'

'So what about Dean?'

'Funny thing with Dean ... I mean he has had allergies before but the reaction he's had ... way off the charts for him.'

'So the bed wants Sam and Dean's allergic to the house?' Bobby asked disbelievingly he shoved his cap back, scratched and then pulled it back down in place. 'So where do ya wanna start?'

'Gonna have to talk to Sammy.' Bobby said after hesitating for a second.

'Daddy!' Dean's panicked scream had both of the men running downstairs, John stumbling on the buckled floorboard Sammy had tripped on, only this time it seemed higher than before. Shaking his head John righted himself and followed Bobby down the stairs.

'We gotta get the boys outta here.' John said as they reached the couch and found Dean sitting up with Sammy lying limply in his arms, blood dripping from the little boy's nose.

John bundled Sammy into his arms while Bobby picked up Dean, not worrying about their stuff they started to the front door when an invisible force slammed it shut, they turned to the kitchen and the back door when the same thing happened, the house groaning around them whenever they moved. Within seconds they were, for all intents and purposes locked in the house.


	2. Huff puff, try to blow this house down

**Father and Sons**

**A Wee!Chester story**

**Disclaimer:** Hmm okay I could say that things could change after this coming weekend but ... Nope still not mine to keep, just to play with, and then send home again.

**Author's Note:** Just a quick note to explain my absence over the last week, for those of you who haven't heard by now, I was very lucky enough to have six days holiday in Sydney, NSW, and another state from where I live. Anyway, during my holiday I was able to attend the All Hell Breaks Lose Supernatural Con and over the two days managed to meet once again Jared Padalecki, and for the first time meet Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins. All day Saturday, a cocktail party Saturday night, and all day on Sunday. Needless to say, I am still floating on a SPN high but reality set back in when I arrived home on Tuesday and had to go back to University for lectures on Wednesday. Soooo now I think I'm back under control. For those who want to see some pics I have them up on my facebook page under Shelley Shearer

Okkies without further rambling on with the next chapter.

S—D

Chapter Two: Huff, Puff, and Try to Blow This House Down.

The silence was shattered by another explosive sneeze from Dean, miserably he sniffed and wiped his nose, turning liquid eyes to his father he tried to be brave but it was becoming harder to breath, 'dad don't feel so good.'

'Dean?' Carefully John picked Sammy up and passed his unconscious baby to Bobby so he could check on his sick eldest. 'Dean son how you doin?'

'Dad, feel so bad, hate dumb house.' Dean's voice sounding thick and crackling from the mucous affecting his throat. 'Me head feels like it's gonna explode.'

Hurrying to their first aid kit John found the children's Tylenol and the thermometer. 'Can ya sit up for me kiddo?' John asked placing a glass of water next to the medication on the coffee table while he took Dean's temperature. 'Looks like you got a bit of a fever there son.' He said paling when he read 101.3, 'can you take these for me?'

Dean sat up and held a shaky hand out for the glass and tablets, but after he saw the difficulty his son was having John propped Dean up against his chest and held the glass for him while he dropped the pills on his tongue. 'Here we go, just sip though Dean.'

Dean sipped at the cool fluid and then rested his aching head against his father's chest, soaking in the strength coming from his father, 'thanks dad.' He croaked.

'Kiddo, can ya tell me everything ya feeling?'

'Head hurts, throat and my nose won't stop running and, and I feel all achy.' Dean moaned, 'daddy why does the house hate me?'

'Dean?'

'Can see em dad, they don't like me.' Dean whispered burying his face against the solidness of his father's chest muscles.

'Dean son, hey kiddo you still with me?' John's voice hitched with fear as he lay his eldest boy on the coach, the gangly limbs limp and pliant as he positioned him in a half seated position against the arm of the seat and then covered him with a blanket. 'Bobby?' John turned his attention to his friend and his baby son when Sam started to writhe in Bobby's arms.

'Daaaadddddy.' Sammy called out fighting against Bobby's grip, 'no, no, no, no, no.'

'Sammy hey baby time to wake up.' John tried to rouse his baby boy, 'Sammy wake up son please.'

Bobby stared at the distraught young father and wondered at just how quickly things had gone wrong and so dangerously. 'Look after yer boys John.' He said tersely his own emotions too close to the surface, 'I'm gonna do some recon.'

John nodded barely hearing his friend as he accepted his youngest son into his arms, sensing his father's embrace, Sammy whimpered and unconsciously moved closer to the warmth. 'Daddy ... little boy ... hurts.' Sammy whispered his voice disjointed and sounding far away.

'Sammy?' John frowned and turned his boy slightly so he could see Sammy's face clearly, 'what was that son?'

'Sammy's gone bye bye.' A high pitched child's voice came from Sammy's mouth, 'all gone.'

'Who are you and where's my son?' John demanded unconsciously squeezing the fragile and thin child's arms. 'Sammy!'

'He gone bye bye.' Sammy's eyes snapped open but instead of his normally bright light green eyes, they were dull and lifeless, dark orbs floating in a film of white.

'Where is he?' John snarled his anger building as he watched the sneer form on his youngest's face.

'Gone.' the slim shoulders shrugged and wriggled to get off John's knee, 'let go.'

'I ... want ... my ... son ... back.' John enunciated each word carefully.

'Sammy?' Dean's hoarse voice came from behind the young father, 'where'd ya go?'

S—D

Bobby moved cautiously around the small wooden house, he checked each door and window but none of them budged, with a heaving sigh he started to inspect the bedrooms with a meticulousness of a top investigator. 'Ah shit.' He ground out when he found a way to the attic from the boy's room. With a deep breath he mounted the small narrow steps and climbed into the small room at the top of the house. 'Damn me.' He muttered as his eyes became accustomed to the dull lighting and he took in the sight before him.

And then, before his eyes he witnessed something that set the hairs on the back of his head to attention and sent shivers down his spine.

S—D

John placed the child on the chair and stared at him in shock, before his eyes his sweet baby's face started to change, taking on a harder slightly older look, streaks of what appeared to be wood took hold of the features. 'What the?'

'Dad what's wrong with Sammy?' Dean tugged at his father's arm but failed to break into John's stupor, his fascination mixed with horror held him transfixed at the sight in front of him.

'Sammy gone bye bye.' The sing-song mocking voice came from Sammy's mouth the head cocked to one side. 'Bed time for Sammy.'

'Whatcha do to my brother?' Dean roared his voice failing towards the end as another bout of sneezing and coughing assailed him.

'Give me my son back.'

'Nag, nag you nasty man.' The child possessor sneered at John flicking a wooden hand at the adult, 'just like me old man.'

'Who are you?' John asked trying a different tact.

'Why?'

'I want to know who I am talking to that's all.' John said forcing himself to keep his voice well modulated and calm.

'I am Jonas Seafrey.' Came the reply, 'your Sammy's a cry baby.'

'My brother is not a cry baby.' Dean seethed hoarsely, 'get outta him now.'

'Ha Mister Sneezy-pants, dust tickle ya?'

Snarling Dean went to pounce on his possessed brother when a coughing attack wracked his fevered body and he slumped back on the bed, 'why?' He croaked.

'Coz it's my turn to play.' The child possessor grinned maniacally.

S—D

'Ah damn me.' Bobby started to back up towards the stairs when a soft muffled moan made him stop and move back to where he stood earlier. 'S-Sammy?'

'Uncle Bobby?' the weak but oh so familiar voice came from the narrow mattress pushed against the far wall.

Bobby sank to his knees and ran his hand over his face as he tried to take in the sight before him. only minutes ago, the small emaciated corpse of a small boy, started to morph into a living breathing child, the flesh almost porcelain in appearance, the tiny hands and feet fettered in chains, large bruises marred the torso, neck and seemingly the back. 'Sammy?'

'Feel strange uncle Bobby.' Sammy cried, 'don't feel me.'

'Ah baby boy don't ya worry yer daddy and me we'll work out what happened.'

'Little boy ... he ... he wanted ...me.' Sammy forced the words out, 'tired uncle Bobby.'

'You rest sport.' Bobby's voice cracked and tears threatened to fall down his craggy features. 'We'll get ya back.'

Sammy nodded and let his eyes slide shut, the child's body lay spreadeagled on the filthy and stained mattress in a death pose, the body; six year old Sammy Winchester now inhabited unwillingly, forced into by a stronger force of will and determination. A child whose own life and death overshadowed any innocence born within him; twisted with bitterness, fear and hatred for the parent who ultimately destroyed whatever child remained in the shell.

Bobby tried to free the painfully thin limbs from the chains but when he tried the metal cuffs started to tighten biting into the fragile flesh. 'I'm gonna git you outta here Sammy I promise.' Bobby whispered not knowing how he was going to keep his promise.

'How the hell do I do this with John downstairs?' He mused, 'I'll be right back Sammy.' He brushed a kiss on the ice cold forehead glad that no one was around to see his display of affection for the little boy who along with his brother stole the hardened heart of the seasoned hunter.

Hurrying as fast as he dared he started to climb down the stairs when one gave way and he fell heavily to the floor below, as the dust settled around him Bobby lay sprawled unconsciously his blood staining the leg of the ornate bed.

TBC

Author's note: I have decided to shorten chapters so I can get all of my stories updated quicker, well that's the theory anyway, so instead of anything up to 15 pages and beyond I'm aiming for 6 – 10 pages instead. Probably around 6 like this one. If this makes any sense at all! LOL


	3. If Only I Were a Real Boy

**Father and Sons**

A Wee!Chester story

**Disclaimer: **Hmm okay I could say that things could change after this coming weekend but ... Nope still not mine to keep, just to play with and then send home again.

S—D

Chapter Three: If Only I Were a Real Boy.

John heard the loud thump, a fine spray of dust fell from the ceiling covering everything and everyone in the powdery substance. 'Dean son, you be alright for a minute?'

'Yeah dad.' Dean muffled turning miserable eyes to watch his father mount the stairs, 'be careful dad.'

John took a final look over his shoulder and gave Dean a small encouraging smile before disappearing upstairs, slipping into hunter mode with each step upwards. Swiftly he moved through the rooms, checking each one for signs of life or disturbance whatever came first. Finally, he reached the cursed room he wanted the boys to share, 'Bobby you in there?' He called out stepping into the icy cold room he shivered and waited for a second while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. A soft groan had him hurrying to the other side of that bed, 'oh God Bobby.'

Kneeling down he placed a finger to the other man's throat releasing his breath when he felt a strong, steady pulse, quickly he triaged his friend, finding the cut and bump on his forehead the most serious of the different cuts and bruises. 'Bobby you waking up for me?'

'Guh...S-Sammy.' Bobby tried to shake his head and winced with the spiking pain running rampant through his brain, 'damn.'

'Bobby? What is it?' John helped Bobby to sit up and carefully inspected his head wound closely, 'you're gonna have a helluva headache for a while with that goose egg.'

'Gee thanks for the diagnosis Doctor.' Bobby snapped miserably.

'Okay you know the drill,' John kept his tone light as he went through the checklist for concussion, 'looks like you might have a slight concussion there dude.'

'Argh, feels like a truck has run over me head repeatedly.' Bobby winced and batted John's prying fingers away, 'I'm fine.'

'What happened Bobby?'

'The attic ... damn it Johnny I found Sammy.'

'Sammy's downstairs ...'

'His body is ... somehow that kid ghost managed to git Sammy out of his body and forced him into his dead one chained to a mattress in the attic.' Bobby gasped for breath after expelling all of his words in one.

'Sammy?' John stared at the fragile looking stairs, 'you fell off these?'

'Yeah or rather got pushed...' Bobby grumbled, 'git up there to yer son Johnny.'

John stared up at the small opening for a few minutes and then set his shoulders firmly, 'first I'm gonna get you downstairs to Dean, then I'll be back with a few things don't want to risk another fall ...'

'John he aint doin' too good.' Bobby squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of vertigo hit him full force, 'damn it.'

'Hold on to me Bobby, aint no time to be prissy.'

After minutes of struggling and cursing the two men made it downstairs, John dropping Bobby ungracefully into the empty seat, 'I'll be back.'

'Dad?' Dean turned an unfocused stare towards the direction of his father's voice, 'daddy time to go home now.'

'Dean?' John hurried to Dean's side wincing at the heat radiating from his eldest son, 'son how you doing?'

'Deanie want home, Deanie want mommy and bubby.' Dean frowned and rubbed his chest, 'Deanie hurts daddy.'

'Ah son,' John glanced up at Bobby a distraught look on his face, 'he's burning up and starting to ...'

'Pass him here John.' Bobby settled back in to the chair and held shaking arms out to gather the precious bundle against him, Dean keened softly and struggled a little but took weak to fight he soon gave in and pressed against Bobby's chest. 'Sh it's alright kiddo uncle Bobby's got ya.'

'Mommy's got a bubba ... uncle Bobby.' Dean mumbled, 'I's a big brother now.'

'Yes you are, Sammy's very lucky to have you as a big brother.' Bobby mumbled his own pain forgotten as he watched the child painfully gasp for each breath, the congestion bubbling and crackling under his rib cage.

John found what he needed and bounded up the stairs not wanting to leave but had his other child to save as well, using up precious moments he pulled furniture across the filthy floor creating a makeshift ladder beneath the opening. With innate care he climbed upwards and then scrambled through the hole easily gaining access to the attic room. 'Sammy?' He called out seeing the pitiful sight in front of him.

'Daddy?' the soft whisper broke his heart as he dropped down onto his knees next to the mattress, 'don' like it here daddy.'

John took in the tiny body lying so cruelly laid out, he guessed the child would have been maybe a year or two older than Sammy, the obvious signs of abuse glared up at him, making the boy look younger, more vulnerable than his true age. 'Sammy son are you in pain?'

'Feel funny daddy, don't feel me.' Sammy's voice sounded so distant and lost, 'feels funny an' really, 'leepy.'

'Can you stay awake for me Son?' John asked cupping his hand on the icy cold cheek, 'stay awake and talk to daddy?'

'Yep, where's Deanie?'

'Deanie's sound asleep downstairs, while I get ya down to him.'

'Oh kay.' Sam sniffed and tried to keep his fear in check not wanting to worry his daddy, 'Daddy?'

'Yes son?'

'The little boy he hurts big time.'

'Sammy ...'

'He so scared his daddy hurts him, all the time.' Sammy kept talking his eyes distant and unfocused as he stared over his father's shoulder, 'daddy ... 'hind you.'

John turned just in time to see a large fist come hurtling towards the back of his head, 'son of a ...' the punch glancing off his shoulder, 'oooph...' John winced but kept his position, his fingers curling around a small container of salt. With a snarl he brought his hand up and flung the salt directly at the ghost, who screamed and disappeared faster than John could blink.

'Daddy?' Sammy rolled his head, 'he's back.' Sammy's back arched off the mattress and blood started to pour from his nose as he fought to be released from the already cold corpse.

'Sammy?' John watched in horror as the face contorted and the angry child's face appeared snarling as it fought with Sammy. 'That's it son, come back to us.' But as quickly as the struggle started it finished and once again Sammy lay in the wrong body his own psyche battered beyond reproach. 'Stay with me Sammy.'

'Too leepy daddy ...'

Cursing under his breath, John worked on the cuffs around the pitifully thin wrists and ankles, wincing with each soft moan coming from his trapped baby boy, 'sorry Sammy I'm so sorry.'

'Don't you let it go.' The angry disembodied voice shook the walls and John felt strong hands on his shoulders trying to pull him away, 'it's gotta stay there.'

'It is a small child, it is my son!' John snarled spinning around he let fly with the salt again, breathing heavily he barely missed a beat as he finished working on the ankle cuffs and started on the wrist ones.

Just as he finished unlocking them John felt a heavy force knock him forward winding him slightly, pushing himself upright he swung around but was met with empty air, 'damn it.' He quickly picked the body up and cradled it to his chest as he made his way down to the bedroom below, a sudden feeling of panic surged through him and all he could think about was getting back to Dean and Bobby, not forgetting Sammy's body of course.

S—D

Dean shivered and tried to burrow deeper into Bobby, needing the comfort and warmth emanating from his 'uncle'. He jumped startled at the loud thumps coming from upstairs, whimpering he couldn't remember where he was or why. 'Daddy?'

'Sh Dean, it's alright I got ya.' Bobby muttered, 'oh God Sammy?' he glanced over at the young boy lying so still on the other chair, the woodenness of the skin now complete, for all intents and purposes it looked like a carved replica of a living child.

'Hurry up John.' He added, though truthfully he had no idea on what to do once John got back to them.

S—D

Heavy footfalls on the stairs brought Bobby out of his private musings turning he caught sight of John hurrying downstairs with a child tucked protectively in against his chest. 'Dammit Johnny you alright?'

'Yeah but don't think Sammy's got much ... oh my God.' He stumbled to a stop when he saw Sammy's body, lying so stiff and lifeless on the chair. 'Sammy?'

'Daddy?' Sammy's soft whisper barely reached his ears, John glanced down at the stranger's body with his son's essence.

'Hang on Sammy, just hang on in there for me.' John placed the shivering child onto the couch and then picking up Dean from Bobby's arms laid him down on the couch the two children instinctively moving into each other's embrace. 'You okay there Bobby?'

'Been better but I'll live, so what happened up there?'

'The father, he actually called his son an it.' John seethed, 'no matter what kids don't deserve that.'

'So how do you want to do this?' Bobby asked scrubbing the palm of his hand over his face and then shifted his ever-present baseball cap back and forward.

'We got two separate problems, one is this body snatching kid and the other is the abusive father.' John paced a little trying to work some kinks out of his back and neck, the blow must have been harder than he thought.

'What's wrong John?' Bobby pulled himself up and staggered over to his friend, frowning when he noticed the dark brown stain on the back of John's neck. 'Ah damn!'

'Bobby?'

'Take yer shirt off.'

'What?'

'Take yer shirt off, I gotta see yer back and neck.'

John grumbled but easily slipped off his jacket, shirt and t-shirt, 'hurry up it's cold.'

'Girl.' Bobby teased as he inspected the state of John's neck and back, 'did he actually git a hold of you?'

'Yeah he did, I felt his hands on the back of ... what is it Bobby?'

'Same thing happening to ya as it is to Sammy.' Bobby explained succinctly, 'damn me.'

'what is it?'

'Yer skin, it is hard just like wood.' Bobby breathed his eyes wide open in shock.

'What?' John reached his hand around and rubbed his neck, frowning with the hardness and lack of feeling.

'Can you feel anything around there?' Bobby asked his frown deepening when John appeared not to hear him. 'Johnny?'

'Feels strange Bobby,' John finally answered, 'we need to find out about that bed.'

'Okay random what about that bed?'

'The kid, the father it's all tied to that bed the one where Sammy scratched himself on.'

'What about it?'

'Not sure, the kid's body was directly above it, the carvings and symbols ... we need to get researching before it's too late.' John moved stiffly starting his search of the house again. Bobby rubbed the back of his own neck and then started to go through the cupboards on the other side of the room.

S—D

_Dean opened his eyes and looked around trying to find out where the crying was coming from. With a huff of air he moved slowly, the floor feeling like marshmallows, his feet sinking into the soft fluffy substance._

_'Who are you?' He called out but got no reply with a deep breath he continued to fight his way through. Finally, he reached the other side of the area and found a dirty mattress against a wall; the small child watched him with curious dark eyes. _

_'Who are you?' He asked again._

_'Me name's Jonas, who are you?'_

_'Dean, whatcha doin' here kid?' Dean crouched down on his haunches and watched the little boy with interest, 'my little brother Sammy is about your age.'_

_'I'm older than I look,' Jonas said softly, 'I'm nearly eight years old.'_

_'Who hurt ya kid?' Dean asked staring down at the many bruises and cuts littering the small body._

_'Me dad.' Jonas said rolling his face away unable to meet Dean's direct gaze._

_'Why?' _

_'Coz he said I'm ...t-t-tainted.' Jonas whispered, 'got bad in me.'_

_'That's bull.' Dean declared, 'you're just a kid.'_

_'I was birthed on the family bed,' Jonas continued as though he never heard Dean, 'it's a special bed my granny used to tell me. But, me dad hates it, says that it is evil, my momma died havin' me. Then me brother died in it sleeping next to me, that's when dad brought me up here and made me stay here.'_

_'Can't you get away?'_

_'Nuhhuh, he broked me legs so I couldn't if I wanted ta, then he told the bed it could have me, then he feel asleep on the bed.'_

_'He feel asleep?'_

_'Yep the bed took him too.' The kid turned back to face Dean his eyes wide with fear, 'the bed takes the ones it wants, an' makes ya all wood like it.'_

S—D

'John think I found somethin.' Bobby called out holding what looked like a leather bound book. 'Looks like a journal or something.'

Just as they started to look at the journal Dean started to thrash about, tears mingling with sweat on his fever-red cheeks, 'no, no please don't.' He cried out reaching for something only he could see, 'Sammy please don't take Sammy.'

'Dean?' John moved stiffly over to the couch, his breathing laboured by the time he made the few strides across the room, 'son wake up.'

'Dad?' Dean blinked and stared at his father for a moment before he started to cough and choke.

'Dean!' John cried out watching his eldest son's face go from a mottled deep red, to white to tinged with blue. 'Oh God Dean ... Bobby he's stopped breathing.'

TBC


	4. Nothing Like a Family Reunion too

**Father and Sons**

**A Wee!Chester story**

**Disclaimer**: Hmm okay I could say that things could change after this coming weekend but ... Nope still not mine to keep, just to play with and then send home again.

Chapter Four: Nothing like a family reunion too...

_Then: 'Dean!' John cried out watching his eldest son's face go from a mottled deep red, to white to tinged with blue. 'Oh God Dean ... Bobby he's stopped breathing.'_

_Now: _

A distraught father sat in silent disbelief, his eldest son laid limp in his arms, he couldn't look down at the lax face he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that he had failed, failed both of his sons.

A soft, stuttering breath went unnoticed at first, he was so lost in the fact that he had failed both of his children, the distraught father didn't feel the slight movement or the breathes coming out slowly, shallowly and hesitantly.

'John, John look at Dean.' Bobby cried urgently trying to get through the wall of grief, 'dammit Johnny look at yer kid he's breathing!' Bobby wanted to get up and clip the idiot over the head to knock some sense into him but he stayed still holding the precious little bundle entrusted to him. 'Damn it John don't make me have to get up and disturb Sammy.'

'What Bobby?' John all but snarled at his friend, 'I've killed my son, no my sons coz Sammy ...'

'You freaking idgit look at Dean.'

John glared at Bobby for a few seconds and then finally allowed himself the chance to glance down at the now peaceful look on his sons face. Only when he looked down there was no peace on Dean's face, only a scowl, pinched pain lines around the eyes and trembling lips. 'Dean?'

'Now ya see you freaking stubborn idgit, look at him he's breathing ... he aint dead John.'

'Oh Gods ... Dean son can you hear me?' John ran a shaking hand over Dean's face, 'he's breathing Bobby.'

'No kiddin.' Bobby shook his head and glanced down at his own charge, 'you hear that Sammy, you gotta hang in there coz yer brother is.'

'Dad?' Dean squeezed his eyes and tried to open them a little, 'daddy?'

'I'm here champ.' John helped Dean to sit up a little bit more until he was resting his head on his father's broad chest, 'right here.'

'Dad it's the bed ... cursed.' Dean whispered, 'thirsty.'

John picked up a bottle of lukewarm water and held it to his son's lips, 'here just little sips Dean.'

'Thanks.' Dean sighed and sank back against his father relishing the strength emanating from the man. 'Jonas told me bout the bed.'

'Who's Jonas?' John frowned his confusion evident on his weather-beaten face, 'what are you talking about Dean?'

'I – I saw ... dunno Jonas was um in my head. He, he told me bout the bed ... his daddy says that he's taint-tainted yeah that's the word.'

'Damn, what else Dean?' John asked ignoring the warning glare from Bobby, he knew that he was pushing Dean too hard but they were running out of time.

Hesitantly Dean relayed what the ghost child had told him, how his father had chained him to the mattress and broke his legs to keep him there. How he was born on the family bed, a special bed his granny said, and how his mom died having him and how his brother died sleeping next to him on the same bed. 'Dad, Jonas was only eight years old, and yet his old man said that he was tain-tainted, that, that he had bad in 'im.' Dean turned around to look up at his father, his large green eyes shining with unshed tears, his cheeks flushed with the still evident fever. 'he said the bed takes what it wants and makes em wood just like the bed.'

'Bobby ... the journal what does the journal say?' John's eyes took on an unnatural sheen as he let the excitement of the hunt overwhelm him, it was no longer a matter of something or someone attacking his boys, this was a bone-fide hunt.

'Calm down John,' Bobby shook his head and took in all of the familiar signs of John's obsession, 'let's put the boys down on the couch and talk over there.'

Gently they laid the brothers side-by-side on the couch and watched as Dean instinctively curled around his baby brother, before John covered them with a blanket.

The two hunters spent the rest of the night watching over the boys, the corpse of the other child while they poured over the journal. By the look of it, Jonas' Grandmother was a witch from a long line, the bed seemingly older than the country itself, held the family spirit in the wood, when each witch died they were laid to rest on the enchanted bed, while it absorbed their power. Over the centuries, the power became corrupt, surrounded by violence and hatred. The women of the family often made poor choices or were forced into marriages with violent men. Two of the earlier witches were murdered by husbands, their spirits unavenged merged with their ancestors in the wood of the bed, adding another symbol to the already powerful existing ones. Until Jonas' grandmother, who loved her grandsons more than life itself, with Michael first and then three years later Jonas arrived. His mother weak from the beating that had brought on the premature birth died as she held her tiny son to her breast. Her spirit welcomed by her ancestors slipped into the framework, a tiny star shaped symbol appeared above the baby's head.

His father beyond grief and guilt refused to acknowledge his youngest son, only their granny's love managed to make life bearable for the last of the family. When Michael at the age of eleven stepped in between his father and brother and took the blow that would have killed the younger more fragile Jonas, that night he passed away sleeping next to his brother beneath their mother's star.

In a fit of grief their father dragged Jonas to the attic, broke his legs after beating him near to death and chained him to the filthy mattress, declaring his hatred and disgust at the tiny eight year old.

Jonas' grandmother found the child's body the next day, the last entry into her journal as she cursed the father, to roam forever in this house never to be free until the bed decides to absorb him piece by piece. She died later that day lying on the bed, her hands crossed over her breast in perfect repose.

Bobby looked up at John and then over at Dean and Sam, 'those poor boys.' Bobby shook his head unable to believe the cruelty of humans.

'What do we do Bobby? How do we break this? We can't let them have Sammy, no matter how horrific their deaths...' John felt the tears scalding the backs of his eyes but he was not going to let his emotions rule, he swallowed them down clamping on them and replacing them with high enough walls to barricade them with. 'We can't ... Dean, that's one thing I can't work out, the ghost wanting Sammy's body yeah I guess but Dean, why make him so sick?'

'That I dunno but it's all linked to that bed ... John ... Johnny you alright?' Bobby stared at his friend in horror as his skin seemingly hardened in front of him, 'John?'

'Huh? Oh yeah I'm here Bobby, but not much ... ah shit.'

'What?'

'The bed, if we're right and it is a cumulation of all of the spirits of the witches then ... would they mistake me for the father?'

'Two boys ... around the same ages as the last two and a single father and let's face it Johnny boy you've got a bit of a fast temper.'

'Oh very funny Singer, and I'm a hunter ... I've hunted witches.'

'Yeah so have I...' Bobby mused, 'damn me.'

'What?'

'Dean he's around the same age as the older brother Michael?'

'Yeah and?'

'And he's the protector of Sammy let's face it John ... Dean takes his job pretty darn seriously.'

'Yeah true, ahh shit.' John unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, 'damn it.'

'Calm down John you aint doin' yerself or yer boys any good by getting' all worked up.'

'Yeah you're right and well you don't look like any work of art either at the moment old man.'

'Nuff of the old man.' Bobby groused, 'it's all to do with that bed aint it.'

'Yeah ... what the?' John turned around to look at the boys and saw the spectre of a woman standing over them apparently weeping. 'Who the hell are you?'

The woman looked up at the two men, she shimmered slightly and then disappeared before reappearing in the same spot, and she glanced down at the boys and then lifted her eyes upwards.

'John?' Bobby caught a glimpse of his friend moving slowly towards the woman, 'hey ya idgit git back here.'

'She's not going to hurt the boys Bobby.' John said his voice sounding soft and distant, 'she's the grandmother.'

'Owkay and just how do yer know that?' Bobby stared from the shimmering image to his friend and then let his gaze fall on the boys, something just didn't add up.

Shaking his head and wincing with the movement Bobby picked up his salt-gun and took aim when the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. 'Shit, Johnny git to yer kids.' He yelled as he shot taking aim at the spectre of the man lunging towards the boys.

'Daddy.' Dean screamed his eyes wide open as he stared at the man as he reappeared above them. Bobby swore and aimed again, 'we need to git the boys upstairs.'

The man appeared on the stairs baring their way to the bedroom and the bed. 'Aint takin' that spawn of evil anywhere.' The disembodied voice screeched, and then the man appeared again hovering over Sammy. 'Sammy no.' Dean cried and weakly pushed himself over both the body of Jonas and the wooden body of Sammy. He screamed in pain as the ghost wrapped its translucent hands around his small throat.

'Get off my son.' John bellowed and threw the last of his salt at the spirit, giving him enough time to grab Dean with one arm and the frightingly stiff body of Sammy.

Bobby picked up Jonas' body and led the way blasting the man with his gun when he blocked the stairs again.

'Spawn of Satan.' The voice screeched again and suddenly invisible hands tried to grab the body from Bobby's hands. 'Must die.'

'Get off.' Bobby snarled as he fought to maintain his hold on the young boy holding Sam's spirit. With the last blast of salt, the man disappeared and they finally burst into the bedroom.

The woman appeared next to the bed, tears like transparent diamonds tracked down her face as she indicated for him to place the boys side-by-side on the bed. Reverently Bobby laid Jonas down first, and then took Dean while John stiffly placed Sam on the bed next to Jonas. The two tiny boys seemingly swallowed into the depths of the large bed. A warmth filled the room as other spirits appeared around the bed, men and women of various ages and builds stood in solemn reverence to the two small children.

Dean moaned and started to struggle in Bobby's arms he wanted to be with his brother so badly, the woman held her hands out and indicated for him to lie next to Sam. As soon as Bobby laid Dean on the bed, the older boy immediately moved between Jonas and Sammy, he pushed his arms under the small forms and cradled them protectively against him. 'No more hurts.' He croaked out.

'I'm losing them Bobby, I'm losing my boys.' John broke down, his stiff body betraying him as he tried to lean over to embrace them.

'No!' The scream pierced the air and the spirit of the man appeared coming from the wall, his face and arms solidifying into wood matching the walls, 'they die.'

John straightened himself and moved to stand between the bed and the wooden man, the crazed look carved into the oaken face was one of sheer malice. There was an audible crack as the man launched himself at John, their hardening bodies smashing together and then rolled away from the bed.

'Damn it,' Bobby had no idea on what to do he stared at the grandmother's ghost and implored her to help them. 'Ya gotta save the boys please ... they're only kids.'

Two more spirits appeared at the foot of the bed, a beautiful young woman with long hair trailing down her back and large soulful eyes, standing next to her a young boy of eleven with the same eyes but a large ugly mark covered the left of his face, evidence of his violent death. 'Jonas.' He called out softly, 'time to come home.'

Sammy's wooden body rose and sat staring blankly at the apparitions at the foot of the bed, 'Mommy?' the voice came from the frozen lips, 'Mommy?'

'I'm here baby but you have to leave the little boy...'

'Feels so good Mommy.'

A loud crash and curse broke the reunion and swinging around with the shotgun as a bat Bobby managed to dispel the wooden ghost long enough for him to run to John, quickly he checked for a pulse and let go of his breath even though he hadn't realised he was holding it. 'Look as lovely as this all is, we have to ... damn it I aint talking to no ghosts.'

'It's alright,' the grandmother said stroking the side of Bobby's face soothingly, 'it's all going to be alright.'

Bobby immediately felt at peace, as unnerving as it was he felt peaceful. With a small sigh he sat down on the chair and relaxed, watching the events unfold before him as though he was watching through curtains.

'Time to come home with us Squirt.' Michael held his hand out to his brother, 'Sammy needs his brother Dean and I need you Jonas.'

'Mikey?' Jonas cried and large tears rolled out of the fixed eyes and down the cheeks softening them as they trickled away. 'Mikey? Mommy?'

'We need you, it's time to come home Jonas.'

Sammy's head turned and stared down at the limp body on the other side of Dean, 'don' wanna hurt no more.'

'You won't Jonas, you'll be with your Mom.' Dean said tightening his grip on both little ones, 'but we need Sammy with us.'

'Yer daddy hurts him.'

'No, no he doesn't hurt us.'

'My daddy did.'

'I know but now you're free Jonas and you can go with your mom and brother now.'

'Can you put me next to him?' Sammy/Jonas asked Dean, 'I didn't mean to hurts him, just felt so good ...'

'It's okay Jonas you're always gonna feel good now.' Dean said as he moved slightly placing the frail body of Jonas in between them, 'yer daddy can't hurt you no more.'

Jonas nodded stiffly and then laid down, 'I wanna go home.' He whispered as a wind suddenly whipped around the room. A loud humming sound drowned out the howling wind and a bright light engulfed the bed, blinding all of those not on it.

Minutes passed before the light dissipated and the wind eased, even more minutes passed before movement started, first with John on the floor and then Bobby started to stir on the chair.

'John?' Bobby shook his head, winced and cursed under his breath with a painful reminder of the lump on the back of his head. 'You alive down there?'

'Yeah, yeah I think so.' John muttered, 'damn feel like I've been run over by a truck.' Slowly he managed to get to his knees, swaying he felt like he was going to hurl, but swallowed down on the rising bile, later he'll have time later for all of that. 'The boys.'

Staggering the two hunters made their way to the ornate four-poster bed, in the middle of the large bed, they found Sammy and Dean lying curled up with each other.

'They-they're alive.' John wept, 'ah hell, they're alive Bobby.'

'We gotta git going John, that freak is still here.' Bobby warned John, 'I'll git Dean.'

'Huh? Oh yeah.' John picked up Sammy and for the first time in a long time noticed just how small and fragile his baby really is.

'You aint taking the evil spawn anywhere.' The man bellowed as he stepped from the wall this time his entire body was made of the oak panels.

'Here John git yer sons outta here.' Bobby thrust Dean into John's arms and pushed the young father out of the room, 'I'll be right behind ya.'

As soon as John was out of the room, Bobby grinned mirthlessly and pulled out his silver lighter, 'me lucky lighter.' He muttered as he lit the edge of a piece of paper and waved it in front of the apparition made of wood. 'So yer part of the house huh?'

S—D

John cradled his two boys to his chest and stood just outside the house, he felt as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest while he waited for Bobby to appear, neither of the boys woke but both were breathing and for that John was grateful.

Tendrils of smoke started to slither around the house, and the crackling of burning timber filled the night air, 'dammit Bobby where are ya?'

'Right here.' Bobby said as he hurried through the front door, 'time to bolt.'

'Ya got that right.' John grinned and hurried to the impala, 'we'll follow ya.'

The silvery slivers of the early morning broke over the horizon mixing with pinks, mauves and puffs of white cloud. The sunrise kissing the earth in welcome of a new day.

Two little boys slept fitfully in the back of the sleek black car as it sped along the highway following the beaten-up looking truck in front of them.

S—D

A week later:

John and Bobby sat by the fire drum at the back of Bobby's house, the remnants of their bbq now prey for his dogs. The two boys sat quietly on a rug playing with their cars, their legs brushed against each other and they spoke in hushed tones only they could hear and understand.

'I'm worried bout them Bobby.' John finally admitted taking a sip of his beer and watched the boys play. 'I never wanted them to be ... Sammy's so little.'

'Have you talked to them bout what happened?'

'Ah yeah, Sammy thinks it was just a nightmare while he was sick.' John took another drink and drained the bottle, 'he ah thinks that they both got bad bugs that had em in bed for a few days.'

'What about Dean?'

'He remembers bits, but not much ... they're just so quiet Bobby, it's not natural.'

'Whatcha gonna do about it?'

'Thinking bout takin' them to Pastor Jim's ... letting them stay there with him.'

'Don't you dare you dumb idgit.' Bobby growled as he fought to keep his voice low enough not for the boys to hear him.

'Bobby I ... what else can I do?'

'Be a father to them. Damn it man didn't you learn anything from what happened in that house?'

'I can't stop hunting Bobby, I gotta find Mary's killer.'

'Yeah and you gotta be father to those two boys ... damn it John give em time, they'll git over this but if you dump em at Jim's and ... they'll never get over you abandoning them.'

'I aint gonna abandon them Bobby, I'll still visit.'

'You do that John Winchester and yer'll never be welcome here agin.' Bobby hissed, 'I'm telling yer straight, the worse thing you can do is walk away from them.'

'Bobby...'

'No listen and listen good John, you walk out on those boys now, keep walking the last thing they need is a casual daddy, you either do it properly or don't do it at all. Sammy and Dean went through hell in that house and ya want to just ... what walk away from them? How's that gonna help em? How's that gonna help em heal?'

'What do I do Bobby? Tell me what do I do?' John kept his gaze fixed on his sons playing happily together, 'what do I do?'

'Love em, be there for em, take some time for them ... let em heal Johnny. My God man you nearly lost both of them just a week ago, think about it.'

'Bobby ... we can't take advantage of you.'

'Am I askin' ya to?' Bobby shoved a fresh bottle of beer into John's hand and sat back to watch the boys playing, 'give em a couple more weeks here, let Dean get completely better and let Sam, let Sam let his nightmares settle that's all. Anyway I can do with a hand around here since I went to save yer ass yet agin.'

'Yeah right Singer ... I'll remember that next time I save yours.' John grinned and settled back relaxing slightly. 'Yeah okay for now.'

'That's all I ask.' Bobby said, 'ya danged idgit.'

S—D

'Deanie?' Sammy cocked his head to one side and stared at his brother thoughtfully, they were alone in their bedroom and supposedly going to sleep.

'Yeah what's up Sammy?'

'Can I s-sleep wif you?'

'Yeah sure short stuff, what's wrong?'

'Nuffin.' Sammy whispered as he climbed out of his bed and hurried over to Dean's scampering up and under the covers before Dean changed his mind.

'Sammy what's wrong?' Dean felt the fine tremors running through Sammy's thin arms, 'you're shivering dude.'

'Don't like the wood boy no more.'

'What wood boy?'

'He wants to play wif me, but I don' wanna.' Sammy curled up against Dean's side and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. 'Don't like him no more.'

'Where's the wood boy?' Dean asked wrapping his arm around his little brother, 'want me to beat him up for ya?'

'Nah it's okkies, just don' wanna play wif him no more.' Sammy sighed and was soon sleeping soundly, with one little fist twisted tightly in the hem of Dean's pyjama top, the thumb of his other hand fixed firmly in his mouth. Dean laid there for a while listening to Sammy sleep and thinking of what his brother had told him, the wood boy wanted to play with Sammy. Yawning widely until his jaw cracked, Dean wrapped both arms around Sammy's shoulders and rested his cheek on the soft chestnut curls and breathed in the scent of his little brother. He decided to talk to his dad about the wood boy tomorrow but for now, his brother was safe and happy tucked up in bed with him, their dad and uncle Bobby were just down the hall and they were safer now than in a long time. Tiredly he brushed a tiny kiss on Sammy's head and let himself drift off to sleep, determined to protect his brother forever.

END


End file.
